


The Night When It Hurts Like Hell

by what-is-a-fanfic-author (HotShame)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A Beautiful Mess, Alternate Universe - No AntiChrist, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Crowley is a mess, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Aziraphale, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Pining, Random Demon Characters, Romance, seriously Aziraphale get your shit together, vulnerable crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotShame/pseuds/what-is-a-fanfic-author
Summary: Crowley attempts to take their relationship to "something more". Aziraphale panicked. Will their 6000 years of friendship and pining save them from Crowley's self destructive behavior?Disaster husbands at their finest. Filled with jealousy and angst.And some humor too.





	1. I'll Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo after spending my weekends reading nothing but Good Omens fics, I've decided to write my own. Enjoy :3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Crowley cares too much and thinks too little. Aziraphale thinks too much and cares too little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never meant to start a fire  
> I never meant to make you bleed  
> I'll be a better man today
> 
> \- I'll Be Good by James Young

Crowley grimaced as he realized the ridiculousness of his situation. He glared at the offending door, debating on whether or not he should use one of his demonic miracles to open it. If he did though, he has no doubt that Aziraphale would sense it.  _ Even just a tiny bit? _

 

Of course, he would. Aziraphale is the Angel of the Eastern Gate. Despite Gabriel’s insistence that he’s anything but an ordinary wanna-be guardian angel, Crowley knew that Aziraphale is something more. Perhaps he’s even higher than the Archangels. But the hierarchy was already lost in Crowley’s mind. After his  _ unintended  _ fall, he tried his best to erase anything that is remotely significant or related to the words  _ Heaven _ or  _ Angels. _

 

Except of course, Aziraphale - who is now standing in front of the door with an amused smile on his face. 

 

Crowley, behind his ridiculous yet attractive black shades, rolled his eyes. “Angel,” he told with his usual enthusiastic voice. 

 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale greeted back, with his ever endearing tone. 

 

Crowley would deny it to the end of the world (which he prayed to God--Satan’s-- _ somebody’s _ sake won’t happen any time soon) but he could actually feel his heart melt every time he heard Aziraphale’s soft, (excuse the pun) angelic, sweet (he could probably list more than a hundred more adjectives to describe his beloved angel’s voice but who has the time anyway certainly not us) voice. 

 

He put up both of his hands - one carrying a box of assorted chocolates and the other with a white wine. “Surprise!” he said. 

 

Aziraphale flashed his blinding smile.  _ Thank God for his dark glasses _ . Crowley shot Her a short prayer of thanks. (He’s in love, let him have this) “You shouldn’t have.” 

 

Crowley shrugged the answer off, pushing his way inside and placing the wine bottle at the nearest table. “But it’s your grand opening day! I thought we should have a bit of a celebration.” (But there’s something more that he wants aside from celebration. And we shall see in a bit after the pleasantries).

 

“You could’ve miracled them instead.” Aziraphale suggested, taking the seat in front of Crowley. He, himself, miracled two wine glasses and gave one to his friend. 

 

Crowley took the glass and poured him one while taking the other empty. “Eh, I thought you would appreciate if I did it the human way. Since the celebration and all--was well, human.” He gave a short laugh, amused by his own joke. 

 

Aziraphale gave a small chuckle despite not getting the inside joke. He eyed the chocolate box. 

 

“Go on, have one.” Crowley said, upon seeing Aziraphale hungrily eyeing his gift. 

 

Aziraphale nodded and opened it. “Aw, this was amazing! Oh, Crowley, they all look delightful!” He said, already munching on one. A moan escaped his lips as he bit his first. 

 

Crowley tried his best not to choke on his wine. 

 

Upon the fifth chocolate, Aziraphale remembered his manners and offered Crowley some. 

 

Crowley took one. “So, a book shop huh? Is this still a part of your mourning over the Alexandria Library?” He mused, licking his finger clean.

 

Aziraphale shook his head. “Though I am still upset over it. No, I decided to have a book shop for my collection of books.” 

 

Crowley nodded and took another chocolate, building up his nerve. “Oh. I’m surprised you have the courage to sell them. First editions and all that.”

 

“Heaven’s no!” Aziraphale looked as if Crowley just struck him with the box. “I don’t plan on selling them, no. Never.”

 

“Then why open a book shop?” 

 

“Well….” Aziraphale looked around. “To blend in, I guess?”

 

Crowley nodded, choosing not to dissect his decision further. 

 

A silence enveloped them. 

 

Crowley sweat under his shirt, he felt as if it was suffocating him personally, gripping his neck tight, whispering in his ears -  _ speak. _

 

And so he did.

 

“Um, Aziraphale...listen.” He began, angling his body more towards his friend. He clasped his hands and placed them above his knees. He leaned towards him. “We’ve been friends for what - like six thousands years haven’t we?”

 

Aziraphale nodded, pouring himself some wine. 

 

“And I thought...well, that’s a bit too much, ain’t it?” 

 

Aziraphale paused. “What...what do you mean?” 

 

“I’m not doing this right, ain’t I?” Crowley said as he noticed the panic look in his friend’s face. He leaned further and lose himself in the sofa. “It’s just that--” he brushed a bit of hair loosed on his forehead. “It’s just that--well…” he coughed.  _ This is it. Break it or Make it, demon boy. _

 

“I want more.”

 

The bottle Aziraphale was holding burst. 

 

\----

 

Aziraphale was shaking - with disbelief, joy, or anger, he was not sure. “What do you mean more?!” He shrugged the wine sticking in his palm. He stood up and exited towards the kitchen. Crowley not far behind. 

 

“Aziraphale! Wait!”

 

“I’m not going anywhere, I just need a  _ damn _ towel!” He said as he furiously wipe his shaking hands with a white towel.

 

_ Oh dear, he’s swearing. _ Crowley thought. “Let’s just forget it-- okay? It never happened. What’s a few more years, ain’t it?” He tried backtracking. 

 

“No!” Aziraphale glared at him. His thoughts are swimming in his head, colliding with one another, merging and twisting - and he can’t  _ follow. _ What was he supposed to feel? What was he supposed to think? He’s so anxious about everything! He felt like something is restricting him, and he wants to  _ let go _ \- spread his wings and just escape away from this. 

Away from Crowley. 

 

He was never the best fan of emotional intelligence. He was always controlled by his emotions. Gabriel had always reprimanded him for it.  _ Angels aren’t meant to feel anything except love for Her. _ But Aziraphale, ever since the beginning, feels  _ everything _ . He had a wide variety of emotions - some he could not even name. 

 

And they’re all mixing right now. And it’s too much. 

 

Aziraphale lost control. He started blabbering. 

 

“It’s just that--you’re a demon.” 

 

You could pit point the exact moment Crowley’s heart shattered. 

 

_ After all these years, you still think of me as such. _ Crowley wants to say. What came out instead was, “I’m a demon?” 

 

“Yes! Yes you are! And I’m an angel. We’re on opposite sides, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s healing voice was tearing him apart. “It’s almost a miracle that our little Arrangement was overlooked by Heaven and Hell. Wanting more, Crowley…it just-- it can’t be done.” He almost whispered the last part. 

 

Crowley took a deep breath, and willed his tears  _ not _ to fall as he did. “Okay.” 

 

Aziraphale could hear the crack in his voice. It echoed painful at the silent room. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. Okay.” Crowley sniffed. “I’m okay,” he whispered to himself, an added assurance not for his sake. 

 

Aziraphale took a step forward and reached out for his hand. But Crowley placed it back in his pocket.  “I do go fast, don’t I?” He whispered, looking the other way. 

 

Aziraphale felt his heart break as he caught sight of a tear falling from his friend’s eyes. “Please understand--”

 

“I do.” Crowley said. “I do.”

 

“Crowley--” Aziraphale tried to reach for him again but Crowley took a step back.

 

“Just...give me a bit of time, yeah?” 

 

Aziraphale remembered that time Crowley slept throughout a century. He doesn’t want to relive those times where he felt enormously empty and alone in a world filled with Her creation. Crowley saw the worry in his eyes, and smiled. “Don’t worry, Angel. It...It won’t be long.”

 

And with that, Crowley disappeared. 


	2. Saint Bernard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make me love myself  
> So that I might love you  
> Don't make me a liar  
> Cause I swear to God  
> When I said it,. I thought it was  
> True
> 
> \- Saint Bernard by Lincoln

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooh the story is done now and I've reached my word quota so rest assured that this will be marked with a little green check! :)

Aziraphale wanted to hit his head on the nearest wall, several times to be exact. 

 

It's just--everything felt overwhelming! And uncontrollable! Like a broken faucet, water just started flooding, everywhere it's flowing, and he just can't stop it. There's no angelic miracle to help him, no knowledge of plumbing to guide him. He's just left there, hands straining, trying desperately to get back control.

 

And what happened when he did? He accused his friend, his  _ only _ friend - called him the very word that he personally knew that Crowley abhor. He had always knew that deep down, deep inside the depths of Crowley's self-proclaimed maliciousness, that he did not belong in hell. 

 

Crowley never did. 

 

The only indication perhaps that he does, is his slit eyes and black wings. But other than that, everything that made Crowley whole was --  _ angelic _ . (Or perhaps Aziraphale had a bit of a biased) 

 

He's good as a person, and he never wanted to truly hurt anybody. As a matter of fact, he spectacularly failed as a demon for all the best maliciousness that he could come up with were merely inconvenience. And if Crowley hadn't took credit for those human-driven wars, he would have been long punished by hell for not being demonic enough.

 

Aziraphale thanks Her every night for granting Crowley this leeway, for making him clever enough. And though he desperately wants to ask the reason why someone as pure as Crowley had fallen, well, he was afraid of damning himself in return. 

 

And that was all Aziraphale ever is, a coward. 

 

He was afraid of what could happen to the humans that he gave them his flaming sword - trusted to him by the Almighty Herself to guard the Eastern Gate. 

 

He was afraid of being reprimanded (yet again) for not being angelic enough that he agreed to the Arrangement that Crowley offered.

 

And now, he had been afraid of accepting his long discovered feelings for his demonic friend that he outright rejected him. 

 

He was afraid of what would happen to them. It was true when he told Crowley that he's afraid of what punishment Above and Below would give them once they discovered that their Arrangement had transformed into something more. However, his fears did not just stop there. 

 

No, he was just as afraid of making it real. 

 

Because accepting Crowley's invitation of  _ more _ means that what he had felt for Crowley - a love incredibly greater than anything in Creation - was real. That he could not longer deny that what he felt for his dear friend, was merely an extension of what She had granted them. That he could no longer hide behind the lie, that his emotions was just too much,  _ and it doesn't mean anything. _

 

But that is not the truth, is it?

 

He knew, that if Heaven had made him choose, Crowley or him falling, he would undoubtedly, without second thoughts, choose Crowley. He would have dive head first into burning flames of hell; because he just loves him so much 

 

_ So goddamn much.  _

 

"Help me God," he whispered as the tears he thought had long since dried cascade freely down his cheeks. Shaking sobs escaped his lips, as he fell down on his knees. He materialized his wings and let it hid him from the truth of the mistake he had made. 

 

His arms outstretched, reaching for Her warmth. "Please God, help me."

 

His cries echoed along his empty place. 

 

" _ Help me _ ."

 

\--

 

Crowley shamelessly drank his tenth? thirteenth? twentieth? glass of whiskey. Who cares about the bitter taste it left on his mouth. He ruined his chance. He ruined the only relationship that mattered anyway. 

 

_ Why do you have to be so goddamn stupid?! _ The never-ending question rummaged against his aching head.  _ Asking for more?! You're a fucking demon! You don't deserve anything!  _ It echoed like a broken machine. 

 

"I'm a demon..." He whispered to himself. 

 

"Yeah, we all know that." A feminine voice said by his side. 

 

He grimaced and touched his head. "What do you want, Seir?" 

 

Seir was a mid-level demon just like him. But, unlike him, Seir scored very high on the lust part. She was slowly gaining the nickname "The Tempest", which was previously held by the demon queen, Lilith. 

 

"Never seen you this drunk." She said, casually, miracling a bottle of wine on her hands. She sat by his side. "Want to tell me what happened? Or should I try to guess?" 

 

"Piss off." Drunk Crowley has long gave up on his sense of pleasantries. Is it too much to ask to be left alone? 

 

Seir had the gall to laugh. "Oh Crowley, I'm just being a good friend."

 

"Demons don't do  _ friends _ ," he spat the word like an untasteful rat (cause he's a snake). He had come to abhor that word.  _ Friends. _ Who the hell even made up that word? Who gets to decide where the boundary lies? And why do boundary exists in the first place? All he wanted was to love Aziraphale, wholly, without boundaries, without holding back. He wants to give him  _ everything _ he had, and ever will have. 

 

But that...just simply  _ can't be done. _

 

Angels don't do friendship. 

 

Demons don't do friendship too. But, he had always been irritatingly unique. 

 

He  _ loves _ . Instead of burning hate, all he ever did was care.

 

He failed as an angel for his curiosity.

 

And now he failed as a demon for his love.

 

That's all he ever was.  _ A failure.  _

 

Seir leaned closer to him, "But you do, don't you?" All of the creatures - both good and evil, perhaps was aware of that fact. Because Crowley was so goddamn stupid when it comes to hiding out his feelings. He could hide his eyes with a fake sunglasses, but he could never hide how much he cares for one particular angel. 

 

Crowley scowled and ordered another glass, which the bartender helpfully provided. He eyed the glass Seir has, not remembering giving any lady a glass of wine. But Seir merely put emphasis on her chest and the bartender's eyes glazed for five second, before walking away. 

 

"I don't need your pity." Crowley said, drinking the glass in one gulp. 

 

"Come on, I paid for your whole tab!" Seir laughed, as if she had just performed an incredible magic. 

 

Crowley, of course was not amused. "What do you really want, Seir? I'm not in the mood for games." 

 

"To be honest, Crowley?" She said, leaning closer to him.

 

Crowley could feel her breath on his right ear.

 

"I want  _ you _ ," she said. She licked his ears, and kissed his neck. 

 

\--

 

_ One hour later, _ after mourning over his mistake, he suddenly found his energy replenished. As if the emotional exhaustion didn't put a dent on his energy reserves. He jumped in joy. Had God answered his prayers? Is this Her saying  _ go for it _ ? Oh, he hoped so! No other entity could have given him this miracle! 

 

He flapped his wings and stretched a bit.

 

Time to find his demon. 

 

\--

 

Aziraphale arrived at a seemingly abandoned bar in the middle of practically nowhere. He would have passed it off as a hallucination had it been not for the sight of the Bentley parked at the side of the place. He was able to sense Crowley's presence, albeit faintly. He huffed and prayed for a little courage before walking towards the door. 

 

He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Crowley heavily leaning against a woman. 

 

Aziraphale quickly duck behind a lampost (we know it's stupid but he's not really the brightest of the bunch), and spied on the two people. As much as he could tell, Crowley was drunk, almost to the point of passing out. He was heavily leaning towards the woman. She, on the other hand, was taking his weight as if he wasn't almost twice his size. He steered them towards the forest behind the bar. 

 

Aziraphale used a bit of his magic to conceal his presence. He walked closer, trying to hear what she is saying. 

 

"Oh, Crowley, dear boy, don't you miss the old days?"  she asked, voice filled with amusement. 

 

"Not...friends," Crowley murmured, his eyes dropping. 

 

"I know, I know. But we'll have fun!" She said, voice leered with double meaning. 

 

"Not--" this time, Crowley slumped on her shoulders, completely passed out. 

 

The woman laughed before leaning Crowley towards the nearby tree. She kneeled before him, and took his face in both of her hands. She smiled before putting her lips on his. She opened one of his shirt buttons and started gently feeling his chest with her right hand. Her left, was busy burying itself on his scalp, threading over his hair, with certain familiarity. 

 

She was moaning. 

 

And every lewd sound she makes, made Aziraphale's blood colder.

 

He walked closer. On his left, materialize a sword he had long forgotten. Its sharp edge glistened with the moon's light. His eyes were ablazed with seething, silent anger. An emotion shining brightly than his sword. 

 

His sword ignited with flames. 

 

Seir was too late to feel the heat. She coughed out blood. She looked down at the middle of her chest and was surprised to see a flaming sword impaling her. 

 

"How--" her eyes lose its life. She screamed as she burst into black smoke. 

 

She was dead. In every sense of the world. Extinguished. She will be neither in Heaven or Hell. Her existence will be merely a whisper, a speculation. A distant memory. 

 

The yell must have woken up Aziraphale from his anger. "Oh dear," he gasped as he let go of his sword. The sword vanished before it even hits the ground. 

 

He looked around, both surprised and confused. He had never felt that much singular emotion. 

 

His focused then come back towards Crowley, still slumped by the tree. 

 

Why he has not just miracled himself sober was still a mystery to Aziraphale. He took his arm and took his weight by his shoulder. He stood up and gently shakes Crowley. 

 

"Crowley?" He called his name. He waited for a response. Still, Crowley did not stir from his quiet slumber. 

 

Aziraphale sighed and opened up his wings, readying himself for a flight with an extra passenger. 

 

Before he could take off, he cast a look at Crowley. And doubt began unintentionally starts to form in his mind. 

 

_ Perhaps...he really wanted to go with her? _ He thought (foolishly, of course - why he had came out with that assessment was beyond anyone's capability to explain). He suddenly found himself thinking back the same words that Crowley threw at him before he left.  _  Is six thousand years of friendship simply meant nothing to you?  _

 

A new fear manifested within him. Is he starting to lose Crowley? 

 

Had he made the wrong choice by going with his instinct and killing a demon.

 

_ Oh Heavens…. _ He had took a life from Her. 

 

\--

 

Aziraphale flew them towards Crowley's flat and in just a minute they arrived. The plants rattled, but not in fright upon seeing their master/tormentor, rather in concern. And Aziraphale felt proud for them, and whispered a soft thank you in their direction. (Although that kind of relationship is abusive in nature, please take note). 

 

Aziraphale gently lay his friend on his enormous and soft bed king bed. He kissed his forehead, wiped a few misplaced strands of hair, and whispered a loving prayer, "May you dream peacefully, and of things you mostly desire," then before he exists the door, " I do hope that I am still in it."

 

Little does he know, Crowley's dreams, was in fact filled with nothing but a small cottage, a library, and Aziraphale reading by the sofa with a hot cup of tea in his side.

 

\---

 

Crowley woke up from his dream. Cursing, scowling. 

 

He cursed his dream because it reminded him of what he could not have. 

 

The blissful joy and content he felt upon waking from it, was quickly replaced with the longing and anguish the waking world reminded him - because "it simply can't be done". Aziraphale's voice echoed like a merciless monster. 

 

He growled at himself before spreading his wings, and soaring towards the sky. (Because one of his many hidden talents, is running away from his problems)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chappie will be posted tomorrow :)


	3. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear, that's what it was just to be clear  
> You went and made everything weird  
> But that's another song, another night, a shot of rum  
> I guess what's done is done
> 
> God, where the hell are you hiding?  
> My hands are in the air and I'm excited  
> I've been on the run, so I'm not coming Sunday  
> It's alright, I'll probably talk to you at midnight
> 
> \- Midnight by Tyler Glenn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This should have been the story title
> 
> Also I lied, and posted this anyway today. Hahaha

The thing with an incubus is, they take the shape of the person you desire most, but only through your eyes. Outside they don't really look much different than a demon. 

 

It's all in your mind, as they used to say.

 

The incubus thrives on lust. It sucks your love and passion until all you become left is a shadow of who you were before.

 

\--

 

Due to Crowley's poor decision-making skills, he decided that the best way to forget his rejection is with a vacation at the middle of literally nowhere. At a small island lost somewhere in the middle of the Pacific. (Did he learns with his mistake with drinking at a bar - also in the middle of nowhere? - no)

 

So, here, Crowley sits at the sand before the shore, basking in the soft glow of light from the sun and the cold breeze from the ocean. 

 

He's passed the point of growling and calling himself stupid. He just now accepted that functioned that way. He is a walking disaster. 

 

He was still musing over his thoughts when suddenly a shadow cast over his head. 

 

"Crowley?" A soft familiar voice whispered. 

 

His eyes widened and he felt as if his whole world stopped. He could hear his heart thrumming rapidly on his chest.  _ He's here. _ What is he doing here?

 

His voice was quiet, with disbelief etched wonderfully on his face. 

 

"Angel?"

 

\--

 

Crowley did not blink for a good whole 30 seconds. His dark glasses had fallen off to his nose. 

 

"Crowley," there's no mistaking that tender voice. 

 

"Aziraphale," Crowley's voice cracked. "What--what are you doing here?" He wanted to ask more, but his mind had long stopped responding. Perhaps a more sensible question would have been,  _ how did you find me?  _

 

"I came for you," he told him, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. "I looked for you, everywhere. And now I found you." He told him, Aziraphale's wings fade as he walked towards him. He stood in front of Crowley, and offered his hand. "Have you eaten yet? Let me cook for you." 

 

Crowley gaped at him. Nevertheless, he grabbed Aziraphale's outstretched hand and pulled himself towards him. "Where?" He asked. "Back in London?" 

 

Aziraphale laughed. "No, here." He looked back and there stood a small cottage. "Come." He offered him, motioning towards the place. 

 

Crowley's eyes watered. He knew what this means. But dear God, he can't stop himself. Whatever form, he could never deny Aziraphale. Whatever the angel wants for him, he would give him. No service fee added, completely free. (In fact if there is such a thing as a wish-granting contest, he would have beaten the genie by a land slide)

 

Tears started to fall from his eyes.  _ I'm sorry. _ He wanted to say.  _ I'm sorry. _ His regrets echoed silently. 

 

Suddenly, he found Aziraphale's soft hands cupping his face. He gently wiped away his tears. "There's no need for tears, my love." 

 

Sobs escaped Crowley's mouth. He can't hold it anymore. He started openly crying, sobbing. He let his tears fall. It doesn't matter anymore. 

 

_ It simply can't be done.   _ The monster appeared. Its echoes threatens to destroy the thin fabric of dreams and reality. 

 

_ But this could _ . And just as quickly as it appeared, the monster vanished. For once, Crowley won against it. 

 

He looked at the image of Aziraphale, blurred with his overflowing tears. "I love you." He said, cupping Aziraphale's face. He memorized his image. Aziraphale's smile was too perfect. His eyes are too bright. Yet, they are practically the same. 

 

And Crowley loves him too much to care. 

 

"I love you," he whispered before kissing him. 

 

Everything was how he imagined it to be. Soft, and sweet. Aziraphale's lips are tender, as soft as his voice. He was basking in Aziraphale's warmth and glow. And he wanted to melt in it. 

 

He felt as if he  _ is _ melting in it.

 

Love destroys all demons.

 

And for the first time in his life, Crowley was no exception. 

 

\--

 

Aziraphale's heartbeat was in sync with the flapping of his wings. It was like a rhythm that he does not wish to be familiar with. It's fast, and uncontrollable. 

 

_ Where are you Crowley?! _ He mentally cursed, and hurriedly asked for forgiveness afterwards. 

 

He merely left Crowley for half a day to tend back to his book shop and cook a small amount of chicken soup that would help him gain sobriety. But when he came back, the bed was in chaos and Crowley was nowhere to be found. He tried reaching out to him, but his presence was too little to be pit point out directly. He has to be near him to pit point out his exact location. 

 

His eyes roam the vast Pacific Ocean, trying to make sense if Crowley was anywhere near before proceeding to scan the whole Asia. 

 

Luckily for him, (perhaps thanks to a slight godly intervention), he found traces of his presence. But it appears as if beating - like water palpitating as it slowly gets down the drainage. 

 

"Crowley!" He yelled, and descended upon a small island. "Where the hell are you, you idiot?!" 

 

Before he was once again aware of it, he found his flaming sword by his side.

 

When he gets down on the island, he saw a small cottage built by the shore. He walked towards it and magically transformed his way inside, finding himself too impatient to knock. He could sense Crowley inside. 

 

He saw him, in bed, with a mirror image of him. 

 

_ How the hell _ \--?!

 

He closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, they're glowing. He could see one body was that of a snake, filled with scales and a faint aura of Eden. The other, however, was a collage of numerous demonic entity, as it unable to decide which it should be. It was a low-level demon. He growled. 

 

An incubus.

 

Without thinking twice, he approached the side of the incubus, put his hands up and stabbed it before it could open its eyes. 

 

The scream woke up Crowley. 

 

\--

 

Crowley woke up to the sound of screaming and the sight of flames. His eyes widened as he saw Aziraphale's body burning. "Aziraphale!" He screamed. He sat up and used his demonic powers to push the intruder away from him. 

 

But the body was already burnt. 

 

Crowley knew that he was mourning over a lie. But his nightmare of Aziraphale burning - with hellfire, his mind shamefully provided - could not be easily erased from his mind. 

 

His tears fell, and there is rage in his eyes. He growled over the intruder, eyes blurry with his tears, he was unable to recognize it. 

 

Until it grunted. And said, "Crowley!"

 

It made Crowley paused. 

 

\--

 

Aziraphale stood from where he was thrown. "Crowley!" He screamed, brushing away the dust that gathered on his clothes. "What have gotten into you?" 

 

Crowley was looking at him as if he barely recognize who he was. 

 

"Crowley?" He asked once more. His sword shattered as it fell to the ground. It faded, mixed with the wind that conventionally passed by. "I'm sorry, my dear." He suddenly had the urge to apologize. Was it another mistake?

 

Oh dear, he took again another life from Her. What had gotten into him? Why is he suddenly quick to end a life? A creation? Shouldn't angels be inclined to protect Her creations? Why was he suddenly allowed to bend the rules made before he was even formed as an afterthought? 

 

"Angel?" Crowley's baffled voice shook him out of his reverie. "How--?" There really is no point in asking. Crowley knew from the start what he allowed to happen. He knew the lie before the incubus even had the chance to breathe. He knew from its almost too perfect presence, that it was not the real angel that he had been pining for more than six thousand years. 

 

"I made a mistake. A huge one," Aziraphale said, suddenly losing any ounce of courage he has to see Crowley's bare slit eyes. It brings him the memories from when they first met. The time when a demon appeared by his side. Asking questions, musing about the ineffable plan. 

 

And he allowed it. How dare he blame the fault solely on Crowley when he partakes in the doubts since the start. He encouraged him by asking more, by inquiring, by getting Crowley to explain.

 

Was it just an excuse he made up to hear more of his voice? 

 

_ Don't go. _ A soft voice echoed at the very back of Aziraphale's head. 

 

And now it's echoing again. But, louder. Stronger. Gaining strength from the fear or reliving the same consequences. 

 

"My dear," he said, holding Crowley's hands. He closed his eyes, holding back the moist that he felt appeared on his eyes. "Please, I don't..." He coughed. He opened his eyes and stared at him. "I don't want to be afraid anymore." 

 

Crowley held up his hand to caress Aziraphale's soft white skin. "Angel," he held his face and leaned his head on his. His eyes closed, "you don't have to be anymore."

 

Aziraphale laughed. And suddenly, his tears started to fall down. He's crying, and yet he was smiling. He was crying, and yet his heart was filled with joy. 

 

"I love you," he said, hugging Crowley tight. "Please," he squeezed him tight. "Please, no matter how idiotic I am," he let go and look at him straight in his snake eyes that he had admired ever since he first saw it, "Don't ever...let me go."

 

Crowley laughed, and he too started crying. Yet he was filled with love, and warmth. This time, it was not covered with pretense, with an allowed lie. 

 

This time, it was real. 

 

"I won't. You're stuck with me forever, angel."

 

Aziraphale kissed him. "To forever."

 

Crowley kissed him back. "To forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniffs* writing 5k words is so goddamn hard. I salute all those fanfic writers who was able to write a goddamn 200k fics. Like holy shit. I appreciate you before as a reader but as a fellow writer you just became holy in my eyes. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for sticking out till this last chapter. I know my English was Rusty and I suck greatly with action, but hey! I made it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! For any who is in need of some Aziraphale x Crowley feels, here's a playlist i made called disaster husbands :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/7ml96xjxm19m6fm6q5qja7dyj/playlist/3qPoB5Krv43roSGEYB8lYM?si=0A9ExTxcQheNp1kd8JGUtA


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